


A Brush With Death

by ShamelessAndFameless



Series: October Creature Challenge! [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Feels, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Halloween, Halloween Challenge, Hurt/Comfort, Jon Snow is a lonely child, October Creature Challenge, Personification of Death, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8175551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShamelessAndFameless/pseuds/ShamelessAndFameless
Summary: Jon Snow is wandering in the park by himself on Halloween after his friend Sam couldn't join him in trick-or-treating but he may not be as alone as he thinks he may be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For the month of October I have decided to try my hand at [youbuggingme's October Creature Challenge! ](http://youbuggingme.tumblr.com/post/151079757579/october-creature-challenge)
> 
> The challenge is OPEN TO EVERYONE and people are encouraged to join in and try your best, no pressure to do all of them just do whatever ones you want.
> 
> DAY ONE - Grimm Reaper/Death

Giggles and shouts echo through the park and a cold wind kicks up amber leaves in the path of a lone teenager. The night is cool and the moon shines brightly through a chink in the armour of the overcast sky.

“Stupid Halloween.”

Jon kicks at a small pile of leaves along a brick path, scattering them only to be picked up by the breeze. He makes a left and ventures into the lesser lit area of the park where he finds the bench he and Sam had spent afternoons sitting and talking together.

_Sam._

Jon sighs deeply and allows himself to lie down on the bench. His head is that the end of the bench and black locks fall of the edge and stutter in the wind. The bench is off the beaten path as much as you can get in a suburban park but most people stick to the main areas. The bench is dimly lit by a lamp post whose bulb shines weakly only slightly illuminating the features of the area around it. He breathes in deeply and lets the cool air wrap around his body, closing his eyes knowing that he’ll be safe.

A gust rolls through and he listens to the rustling of branches and leaves, rubbing against each other. The air seems to thicken for a second but then thins out and he feels a chill run through his body. Everything seems to settle and all Jon can hear is the sound of his breath, warmth being expelled from his body and he feels the cold seeping in with each inhale.

“Normal people have better things to do tonight than be alone and miserable,” Jon recalls to himself, echoing the words of his brother Robb’s friend – Theon.

“You’ve never been just a normal person,” A soft, feminine voice calls from seemingly all around him, “unless I am mistaken of course and you are not in fact Jon Snow.”

His body petrified at the sound, unable to move except for shaky, uneven breathing.

“You do not need to be afraid, Jon.”

What feels like a hand slowly runs through Jon’s silky hair, downwards to his back where it rubs soothing circles and he finds himself sitting upright. The touch was calming and it quelled the anxiety inside of him but had a cold, biting edge that he feels creeping over him.

“Who are you?” Jon’s voice is steady but he did not look to see who sat next to him.

“We have known each other for a long time, we met as you were brought into this world and we have met many times since.”

A hand cool hand ghosted across his cheek and it guided his face to look at the figure. She was cloaked in black and wore a white mask with minimal facial details but it felt as though a depth of emotion was radiating from beneath. The cloak itself didn’t look like it was being worn as much as it was suspended in space. Jon withdrew from the hand on his face and looked upwards into the writhing mess of branches, the lamp flickers and it feels as though everything has been withdrawn. No laughter echoing, no animals rustling, no wisps of wind.

_What do I even say? I still have no idea who she is or what I’m doing._

“What is troubling you tonight,” She says and her voice is like a wave washing his insecurities away, “are you not meant to be enjoying the celebration?”

Jon groans, “My friend Sam, he was supposed to be with me tonight but his father is a dick and told him he couldn’t come at the last minute.”

“Ah, but at least you are not alone.”

“Yeah like you count anyway,” Jon huffs in disagreement and brings himself forward to look at the ground, “Sam and I only hang out because we’re both misfits and I don’t even have anyone else.”

“What about your family Jon?”

“Robb has Theon and a whole group of friends, I’m pretty sure Catelyn hates me, Sansa and I have nothing in common and I’m too old to be hanging out with Arya.”

“I was talking about the family that you carry with you, Jon,” She says and brings Jon’s hand to his heart, “I have been with since the beginning and I will be with you at your end, Jon, your family has never left you, not once.”

His breath hitches and tears begin to well in his eyes but refuse to fall. The figure pulls some hair his face and tucks it behind his ear, they share a glance and Jon could swear he sees droplets flow from the eyes of the mask. She pulls back her hand and waves it in front of the mask and it seems to melt into the air to reveal a face.

“Mum?”

Lyanna Stark’s face stares back at him and his eyes release the tears as they trickle slowly down his face and he starts to sob. He is brought into a tender embrace that radiates warmth that he feels in his heart and soul. He feels lips press into his forehead before they move to his ear.

“You will accomplish great things Jon Snow, be brave and let your heart guide you to what you know is right.”

“I love you.”

They pull back from the embrace and Jon doesn’t dare to break his gaze from his mother’s face, committing her face, her voice and the feel of her kiss to memory. Old photographs were now not the only connection he had with his mother. The mask materialises out of the air and he is faced with the plain face he had begun this conversation with; the figure pulls back and places her hand gently on his chin, wet from the flow of tears.

“You have you mother’s eyes, Jon.”

The tears fall from the base of his chin as a roaring torrent of wind blasts through the park, the sounds of rustling comes from behind and passes through him. Leaves are swept by jets of frost-infused air and the figure disintegrates into autumn leaves and black mist, carried away as the tears hit the cracked ground below him.

This would not be Jon’s last brush with Death.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some notes on this fic, I don't believe in anything religiously/spiritually but whenever I picture a personification of death I always think of an old woman/a mother because everyone is given birth to by a mother so I've always pictured a mother being responsible for having to take away the life as well.
> 
> This fic was also partially inspired by a beautiful, award winning short film I watched a while ago called [ CODA.](https://vimeo.com/131376602)
> 
> Have a good day everyone :)


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